"I did not mean to hurt you, Mollie. I am torn by contending passions of right and wrong. My soul is athirst. I long to quench its burning fires, but dare not speak my thoughts. Alone in a new world, I am barren of kith or kin to fill the aching void in my heart. And, though knowing this, yet am I bound by chains of honor, respect and manly devotion from speaking the words which might, perchance, secure me that greatest of God's blessings to man, a woman's love." He bowed his head, and remained silent. Mollie Craft was no child, no affected school-girl, nor hardened society woman. She was a true, noble-hearted being, and read this man's secret without his lips framing its confession: he loved her. With sorrow in her voice, she said: "Junius, you are not alone in the world. You have a father, mother, brother, and sister, though not of the same blood, yet are they as loving as your own relatives could be." "I know," he returned; "but my heart craves more--a being like you, Mollie, to love me and be loved by me in return." It was out. He had avowed his love, but not in such passionate terms as one would have used if a reply had been expected. He meant not to ask her heart and hand; he merely told her what his heart craved. She made no answer; gave no reply. Then, with a burst of increased sadness, Cobb continued: "I crave this love, Mollie, but cannot ask for it. I have already given my pledge to a woman--have promised to marry none but her." "Then, Junius, you should not break that promise," and a relieved expression came over the fair face. "But she can never be mine; she is dead!" and the strong man bowed his head and wept like a child. Going up to him, she put her arms about his neck, and kissed him on the forehead, then silently left the room. As the dial in the executive mansion sounded the hour of 22 that night, a figure wrapped in a black cloak stole silently from the rear entrance of the building, through the gardener's gate and into the conservatory. An instant later and a tall man had clasped her in his arms, and lovingly pressed her to his heart. "Ah, Lester, you are waiting for me," looking up into his manly face. "Yes, dearest; waiting and watching. These moments by your side, stolen though they are, become the happiest in my life. Ah, Mollie! would that you could be with me forever. Why must I thus always beat about the bush to seek your society?" Reluctantly he released her, but held one dainty hand in his, as he led her to a wicker seat just beside the daisy rows at the lower end of the conservatory and seated himself by her side. Throwing her large black cloak over the back of the seat, Mollie turned her great blue eyes toward her lover. "Why must you seek me thus stealthily, Lester, you ask? You know." Her eyes dropped, and a shade of shame overspread her fair face.